


Variations on a Manifestation

by fireweed15



Category: Nomad of Nowhere (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 07:32:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireweed15/pseuds/fireweed15
Summary: Skout's present starts to converge with memories and knowledge from her past— in short, she starts having nightmares about her companion.





	Variations on a Manifestation

**Author's Note:**

> _for the most sense / context, we recommend reading "Another Thing Altogether" first_

"The Nomad of Nowhere." Don Paragon circled the Nomad in a way that Skout tried not to think of as _predatory_. A ring of Dandy Lions surrounded them, a barrier. "We've been looking for you for a long time."

The Nomad kept his gaze firmly averted, his hands bound behind his back in a way that prevented him from using his magic. Ankle shackles wrapped around his boots, the chains sitting heavily between his feet.

Paragon whipped the back of his captive's legs, hard, with the scabbard that had been hanging from his hip, bringing the Nomad to his knees. "I suppose," he went on, moving to crouch eye level with the Nomad, "that you're going to beg me to spare you sad, miserable existence, so go ahead." He reached out and seized the Nomad by the jaw. "Convince me."

The Nomad's eyes narrowed, and Skout could imagine his expression hardening under his scarf. As much as was possible, given the his restraints, to say nothing of the way he was being grabbed, he shook his head, fingerspelling an insult so coarse it made the tops of her ears turn pink.

"Very well." Paragon released him with a push before standing once more. "Goodbye, Nomad of Nowhere—" He unsheathed the sword, gleaming and sharp and unforgiving, before leveling it with the Nomad's neck. "I can assure you, it hasn't been a pleasure." He drew the blade back before swinging it down, slicing through the air with audible sharpness just before—

Skout bolted upright, eyes scanning the darkness wildly, before a sharp pain in her side brought her back to reality. " _Owww…_ " She lifted a hand to the bandages, gingerly feeling them and hoping she hadn't popped any of the stitches.

A hand came down on her shoulder, and she jumped again. "'S just you," she murmured, relieved, when she realized that it was the Nomad.

He nodded, his expression softening, before lifting the hem of her shirt to assess her bandages.

"I'm fine," she soothed, letting him look her over.

He fixed her with a meaningful look before shaking his head, as if saying _no you're not_.

"It's just a nightmare," she mumbled, looking away.

He shook his head again before carefully tugging off his gloves and turning her face back to his. In the stillness, the wind and distant thrum of insects said everything he couldn't.

Skout leaned her head into the touch. After a moment, she took his hand in hers, pressing a soft kiss to the backs of his fingers, before helping him back into the gloves. He of all people deserved the truth. "I saw Don Paragon," she admitted, more to their hands than to him.

He gave a small start. Skout rarely spoke about her time before she started travelling with him, and that alone spoke to the gravity of whatever was troubling her. He waved a hand slightly, indicating that she could continue.

"Oh, uhh…" She swallowed hard. "Some—some memories from before we got together got mixed up with some stuff—"

He gripped her hands tightly before signing, _He hurt you?_

"Nah, he's never hurt me," she promised, patting his hand. "To be honest, I don't think he even knows my name."

The Nomad reached over and tucked some of her hair behind her ears. _What happened?_ he signed. _In your dream?_

"I—I… don't think I should tell you," she mumbled.

He canted his head to the side, wordlessly asking _why_.

She shook her head. "It's just a bad dream," she said, wincing as a jolt of pain lanced through her wounds. "Ow…"

The Nomad loosely wrapped his arms around her shoulders, leaning in to nuzzle her softly. After a moment, he released her to sign, _It's upsetting you._

As much as she was able to without aggravating her injuries, she leaned against him; when she spoke, her voice was soft. "He killed you.

The Nomad gave a soft start, which prompted Skout to elaborate, "Someone caught you, and Don Paragon just—he took your head clean off!" She drew a sharp, shuddering breath, her hand flying to her mouth. God, just thinking about it brought the horrible, bloody images back anew—!

He embraced her again, gently drawing her into his lap. _It's okay_ , he signed, pausing to brush some of her hair from her face. _I'm okay, see?_ His soft expression fell when Skout shook her head. _What's wrong?_

"You don't _know_ Don Paragon," she moaned, lifting a hand to wipe away her now freely flowing tears. "He's… he's completely _fuckin'_ crazy! I mean, he's up and stabbed Dandy Lions for less—I don't even want to _think_ about what he'd do to you!"

He gently lifted her face to meet his gaze. His free hand waved slightly, prompting her to continue.

"He just… he ain't _right_ ," she managed. "If he even _thinks_ you're questionin' him or his 'great vision,' it's…" She shuddered before fixing the Nomad with a pained, meaningful look. "He's gonna use you as a stepping stone to a governorship, and if that means getting your blood on his hands, he ain't afraid to do it."

He brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, wiping away a few lingering tears, before leaning in and nuzzling her softly. After a moment, he lifted his hands to sign. _We won't let that happen then—deal?_

"Yeah," she agreed softly, a slight smile touching her face.

He beamed warmly before reaching up to unbutton his poncho and, with a fluid swoosh, wrapping it around both of them before easing Skout back down to the improvised bedroll. He bent over her long enough to press a sort of kiss to her cheek before settling behind her, an arm wrapped around her, loosely holding her against his chest.

If there were other dreams after that, she didn't remember them—only a sense of security and, dare she admit it, contentment.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Small Fandoms Amnesty Challenge at the Hurt / Comfort Bingo on Dreamwidth.  
> You can have this ship when you pry it from my cold dead fingers.


End file.
